No Control
by cheyannekaytlynn
Summary: "Look – shit, Ed," he mumbled. "It's been a long time." "Try almost thirteen years, bastard." [Contains spoilers for Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood.]


_Hey, guys! Please go easy on me, considering that this is my first work of fanfiction in years. (That's no joke, unfortunately.) I love constructive criticism, though!_

_Because I felt that one chapter was a little much, I'll be splitting this into two parts. The second will contain smut, so it that isn't your thing, you may want to stop when the first chapter comes to an end._

_Unfortunately, I have no beta as of right now; any mistakes are completely my own._

_This work is very (very, very, very) loosely inspired by the song "Awkward Conversations" by The Front Bottoms. Excellent song, excellent band. Give them a try!_

_Thank you! Enjoy. :)_

* * *

The train ride, he realized tiredly, seemed just as long then as it had all of those years ago – though impatience didn't tense his stature or cause his flesh tips to pound lightly against the arm of his seat. This time it was nervousness that caused his entire being to be off; he wasn't prepared to be back in Central, though the male whom sat directly in front of him was. He was speaking quietly, excitedly to the blonde next to him. He heaved a sigh as his golden hues fell on the younger character, who flashed him a grin.

"Isn't that right, brother?" he was asking, his brown-eyed gaze expectant.

"What?" he asked – it was something about weddings. What had he been saying? "Yeah, sure."

"It's been so long since any of us have seen her, Al," Winry finally spoke up from her position next to him, her crystalline hues filled with the same enthusiasm that Alphonse's had – the feeling that Ed reciprocated for the event, but not for the memories it brought along. "She's going to make a beautiful bride."

"Brigadier General Hughes would be proud," the youngest of the brothers said, his toothy smile never faltering.

* * *

The problem with this trip, he thought bitterly, wasn't the wedding itself, but instead the company the event included. Edward hadn't been back to central in _years_; the last time he had set foot in the city had been just months after The Promised Day, when he had found himself saying goodbye to _that_ bastard for what he thought to be the last time. He grunted as he clenched his right fist, fighting the urge to find the bloody king of Amestris and punch his lights out. He remembered the way he had smoothed his hand down his newly-returned arm, breathing something about how beautiful it was – how beautiful Ed was. "What would be fucking beautiful," he grumbled as he sat down on the bed, golden gaze focused on their reflection in the mirror. "Would be giving the fucking Führer something to think about – starting with my foot in his ass."

But Edward knew that he wouldn't ever have the power to do it. Especially not with all of Mustang's fucking guards – and not in a reception hall in front of a million and one Amestrians that would gather to witness Elicia Hughes exchange vows with one of the men under Führer King Mustang's command. The blond sighed, heavy eyelids closing over bright hues. Tomorrow was going to be a fucking nightmare.

* * *

The gathering before the wedding was interesting, to say the least. Officials, family members, and other guests all mingled together, and Edward stayed close to his brother, the social know-it-all, even as they were greeted by military personnel and Amestrians that were, at one time, as close as family. It was odd to be surrounded by familiar faces that he hadn't seen in years; he almost felt at home, though the pit of his stomach was filled with anxiety – as well as delicious hors d'oeuvres – and was almost comfortable with the situation. He could relax just a bit, though he was still careful to peek around for that damn fiery man who looked so natural in blue.

"Edward! Al! It's so nice that you two could join us," he heard a sweet female voice say behind him, and he was quick to snap his head around to lay eyes on her. Age, he told himself, had affected everyone that he had been reunited with, but time could never hinder the kindness and warmth that filled Gracia's eyes. He found himself grinning, reaching out to curl his arms around her after his brother had released her from his own embrace. "I saw Winry speaking with Jean – I knew you two couldn't be far."

"It's great to see you," Al was responding, and Ed felt the warm weight of his brother's hand on his shoulder. "I can't believe Elicia's old enough to get married."

"Yeah, the years have flown by," Edward agreed with a nod, fingers tugging the wrinkles out of the front of his suit jacket. "And to think that she's marrying into the military. Seems like she follows after both of you."

Gracia's laugh was just as soft as the rest of her. It felt good to hear and see the happiness that radiated from the woman that the eldest Elric had always respected. "She does, yes," she told the pair. "She's definitely as brave as Maes was; Roy and I were just speaking last night about how much she resembles him – what a heart she has, too."

At the mention of Roy, Al squeezed his brother's shoulder before dropping his hand, speaking before Edward could get carried away in his thoughts. "Speaking of Führer Mustang," he said, brown-hued gaze flicking to the face of his elder brother. "Where is he?"

"Oh, you boys didn't know?" she asked with a grin. "He agreed to walk her down the aisle. Elicia insisted – she's always looked up to Roy."

Ed's lids slipped over his golden gaze as he nodded, and he was grateful when he heard an usher near them say that it was time for everyone to get to their seats. The trio quickly said their promises of catching up later, Al leading him to find Winry and then to their seats.

* * *

The wedding had been lovely; Edward could only begin to appreciate the sentiments that left the new bride's and groom's mouths, but he could tell that she was happy. He had even acknowledged – silently, of course; he couldn't voice it to Al in fear that his brother would think that he was growing soft – how beautiful she had looked standing next to even the finest and most worshipped man in the entire country. (Edward had tried to keep his eyes off of the ebony-haired creature, but it had been impossible. He was glad when Führer Mustang had stepped out of his line of vision.)

The reception afterward was just as elegant as the ceremony beforehand. Al had made a promise to reunite with his brother after a few rounds of dancing and Ed had understood; Alphonse had always been able to work the room, to be so social even when he was stuck in a suit of armor. Instead of joining his sibling, he had decided to grab a drink and watch from a safe distance. His gaze had eventually fallen, like everyone else's in the room, to the new bride and groom, and he smiled. It was clear that a presence was missing, but the former alchemist knew that Hughes would've been just as proud as his wife was at the moment.

"A lovely couple, aren't they, Mr. Elric?" he heard from beside him – and, god damn it, how had he not noticed the male being so close to him? His form went rigid, his tongue suddenly too thick to form a reply; instead, his gaze turned hard and fell to the floor. "You know, I had my doubts when it came to him at first, but he's such a skilled alchemist. Hughes probably would've come grumbling to me, telling me that he didn't understand alchemists and their freakshows – but he'd have been proud. Major Alexandre is a force to be reckoned with."

The long moment of silence that followed seemed to break down the Führer's demeanor and he sighed, shifted beside Edward. "Look – shit, Ed," he mumbled. "It's been a long time."

"Try almost thirteen years, bastard," the blonde found himself hissing, staring down into the dark purple liquid in his glass. He had always hated wine, but he could remember the vivid image of Roy holding a wine flute in his hand, looking so delicious – much more delicious than the beverage in his hand. "Thirteen fucking _years_."

"I know," came the quiet reply, and he finally allowed himself to glance over to the male who was staring solemnly into the distance. "I didn't mean to allow us to go this long without speaking, without—can we get out of here? Go somewhere a little less…merry?"

"Isn't that the point of these things?" Ed asked. "To fucking marry and be merry?" He placed his own flute down on the corner of the table before he turned to Mustang, hues filled with what he hope would portray anger. "Let's get the fuck out of here."

* * *

The night air had grown cold in the hours that the man had spent inside. The complaint at the temperature change died on his tongue as he walked, slowly and silently, next to the character that he had spent so much time telling himself that he would avoid. He should have known that the task would be impossible – that Roy Mustang wasn't someone who would let him fall invisible in the crowd of people. He sighed, golden hues flicking up to the night sky, and heard the other clear his throat beside him.

"You've gotten taller," he said, evoking an annoyed glare from Ed, the mention of his height still a sensitive subject after all of those years. He had gotten taller, though Alphonse had certainly gained the height of the family, standing half-a-head taller than the elder Elric. He was finally close to Roy's height – a fact that certainly didn't go unnoticed.

"You have grey hair," he mumbled in return, watching as Roy's face fell into something that resembled a pout. The reaction made him grin.

"We can't stay young forever, you know," the elder of the pair muttered, dark blue hues meeting the golden pair. "However, I'm told that it makes me look…_respectable_."

There was a moment of complete silence before laughter bubbled from Edward's throat, filling the cool night air with a warmth that he had been nervous to spill with the other. The laugh brought a discontented noise from Roy's throat, but it only seemed to amuse the younger character more, and the time seemed to stretch on for the Führer before silence rang loud once more.

"Respectable?" Edward was asking, catching his breath after the word was out. "That must put a bad taste in your mouth – that Roy fucking Mustang isn't called 'the oldest, hotter womanizer in the city.' Shit, you bastard, did your heart break when that word was uttered to you?"

"I did burn the newspaper that it was stated in," Mustang bragged, a ghost of his once-familiar smirk on his lips.

"I bet Hawkeye was worried you'd cry," Edward told him, finally feeling at ease. "I bet she's never seen you look so sad; she should've put you out of your misery."

"She's had the chance a few times," he said with a soft, humorless laugh. The sound made Ed study him closely, watching as those deep blue eyes fell to the ground. It was odd to see Roy so—out of his comfort zone; he suddenly looked like a man who had too much on his shoulders to bear, and the younger of the two could only imagine what was going on in the alchemist's head. "So, Resembool – how's it treating you?"

"It's – home, I guess," Edward told him, meeting his gaze when Roy finally looked up. "I spent a lot of time traveling, studying after I left Central the last time. I've only really spent the last few years back home."

"Hm. A lot's changed, hasn't it?"

Roy's gaze was intense, weighing heavy on Ed's heart; it made the anxiousness he had felt earlier in the evening return, to settle deep in his stomach. He wanted to avoid it, wanted to it to move anywhere else, but he didn't allow himself to break the eye contact. "Yeah," he found himself whispering. "Yeah, it has."

The words were barely out when he felt a gloved hand cup the back of his neck, and suddenly he was against Roy, chapped, cool lips pressed against a paler pair. His heart was hammering against his ribcage, but he was consumed. It was so natural to return the kiss, and he was vaguely reminded of the one evening he had spent tasting the older male, of being promised that forever could be like that – just before the hope got ripped apart the next morning when the alchemist had told him that it couldn't – it couldn't fucking being like that. There was too much at stake to continue the relationship with his ex-subordinate.

"_The state wouldn't approve," he could remember Mustang saying, hair mussed and eyes still sleepy as he sat, cup of coffee in hand. "It was a mistake, Ed."_

That same man was now looking down at him, blue hues filled with untamed emotion, and he was speaking. "I'm sorry, Edward," he was saying, long, gloved fingers brushing a thick strand of blond from Ed's face. "Please let me make it up to you. Come home with me."

And Edward, his fingers still gripping the thick coat that covered Führer Mustang's blue uniform, believed that that was the dumbest idea he had ever heard – but, then again, Roy Mustang had told him so many times that he didn't think before he did things. Tonight would be no different.


End file.
